


Truth or Dare

by echomoon



Category: The Magicians (TV), The Magicians - Lev Grossman
Genre: Blowjobs, Coming In Pants, M/M, Rough Kissing, Rough Oral Sex, Truth or Dare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-19 14:05:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14238903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/echomoon/pseuds/echomoon
Summary: Quentin gets roped into playing truth or dare, with Physical Cottage house rules, and has some fun with Eliot.





	Truth or Dare

**Author's Note:**

> whats up, this was supposed to be a drabble but im incapable of not being verbose. this is not proofread or betad so please let me know if there are any mistakes, this was an impulse fic lmao

According to Physical Cottage house rules, truth or dare can only be played if all participants take truth serum. Quentin should never have agreed to play, but he’s drunk and Eliot is looking at him like his world will shatter if Quentin doesn’t agree.

 

Which leads to:

 

“Quentin! Truth or dare!” Margo laughs when the bottle lands on him.

He looks up at the ceiling, as if the cutlery stuck up there will help him choose the safe answer. So far, the dares have been cruel and unusual. Why anyone has chosen it is beyond him - though the rules do say you have to do one dare for every truth before you can choose truth again. Maybe that’s what happened there. Quentin is honestly bordering on too drunk to really pay attention to anything but Eliot, across the circle from him.

“...truth.” he says finally, looking Margo dead in the eyes.

“What is… the most unique thing you can do, sex wise.” she says, serious, before breaking out into giggles at the end.

“Ugh.” he replies, and the group eggs him on until finally, blushing, staring at Eliot’s mouth, he says, “I can… come without touching my dick.”

“Ooh, talented.” Margo teases, and the rest of the group jeers and laughs.

But he doesn’t miss the hungry way Eliot stares at him.

 

Which leads to:

 

Eliot takes the bottle, and makes a quick gesture over it before spinning. He’s cheating, picking his target, and they all know it, but everyone’s too drunk to care. Half the players have left, the rest barely care. The game is fading.

The bottle lands on Quentin.

“Truth or dare?” Eliot asks, his voice deep, sultry. The way he’s looking at Quentin makes him want to curl up in a ball, or kiss him.

Quentin, who hasn’t been picked since his last turn, is ever the rule follower. 

“Dare.” he swallows.

Eliot leans across the gap, so close Quentin could just lean forward and kiss him right there, and says, “Show me.”

Quentin knows exactly what he’s referring to. 

“Here?” he says nervously, looking at the people around them.

There’s a glint in Eliot’s eyes. “Whatever you want.”

What Quentin wants is to kiss him, to feel every part of his body, to hell with the rest of the party goers. To tackle Eliot and wrap his lips around his cock, to kiss him until their mouths are sore, to let Eliot do whatever he wants to him.

“Upstairs.” Quentin whispers.

Eliot nods and stands, holds his hand out for Quentin to take.

 

Which leads to:

  
  


Eliot settles in a chair facing the bed while Quentin undresses, removing everything but his boxers. When Eliot makes a noise of curiosity, Quentin shrugs.

“Its how it works,” he says blithely, “its harder without underwear on.”

“I’d certainly hope so.” Eliot smirks.

“Shut up, or I’ll leave.” Quentin says, acting braver than he feels.

But he gets on the bed, kneels facing Eliot. He’s already half hard from anticipation, and with the way Eliot is devouring him with his eyes, he knows it won’t be hard to get harder. But he’s never done this with an audience. He settles down a bit, still kneeling but resting on his legs, spread apart at an angle. 

He runs his hands down his chest, across his neck, one hand moving into his hair, tugging on it a little. He makes small thrusts in the air as he wills himself harder, imagines that its Eliot he’s thrusting against. He can hear the man breathing, can practically feel his stare. It helps. His cock tents his underwear, twitches at the thrusts. He bites his lip, opens his eyes.

He shifts position, leaning back on one hand, arching back a bit, still making small, circular thrusts. Doing this, he never lasts long. He runs his other hand over his neck again, tries to muffle the noises he wants to make. He doesn’t look at Eliot, but he can hear him shifting, imagines him opening his pants and fisting his cock. Fuck. 

The image sends an extra thrill down him and he gasps. Precome is starting to leak from his cock, visible through his underwear. His thrusts tighten, he makes smaller circles while his cock twitches, and he wants to just strip all the way and let Eliot touch him, imagines Eliot running his hands over his body.

He feels himself getting close and thrusts forward one last time, body tightening as he starts to come, making fists in the bedsheet and in his hair. He shivers, the cum leaking out of him, through his underwear, dripping down, and when the orgasm ends he all but collapses, loosening up.

He finally looks forward, to see Eliot, hungry eyes, a hand over his crotch, grinding down on his dick. He’s missing layers, his shirt unbuttoned.

Quentin reaches down and pulls his softening cock out of his underwear, pulling the foreskin back and letting the last few drops of cum drip out. Somehow that is what breaks Eliot’s self control, and he lunges toward Quentin, towering over him, pulling him into a vicious kiss. Quentin shoves a hand straight down Eliot’s pants, taking his cock in hand, and fuck, he’s big. Eliot breaks the kiss for a moment, to tear his pants open, and Quentin loses all rational thought when he actually catches sight of Eliot in all his glory.

Quentin pushes Eliot over and dives down, taking Eliot in his mouth, as deep as he can. He gags, for a second, moving too fast, but adjusts quickly enough. Eliot’s hands find their way to Quentin’s head, trying to guide his bobbing, gentle in their touch, and Quentin almost laughs. Without breaking rhythm, he grabs one of Eliot’s hands and forces it into a fist in his hair. Eliot gets the hint and pulls rougher, harder, at one point pulling Quentin so close that he gags again, has to pull back to catch his breath, decides to lick up Eliot’s dick instead, to tease him, before taking him back fully. Quentin digs his fingernails into Eliot’s hips. Eliot’s moans are delicious.

Eliot pulls Quentin back when he’s about to come, so he replaces his mouth with his hands and lets Eliot shoot his come over his face. He’s a sight, red lips and cheeks smeared with come, wide eyes bright with lust locked with Eliot’s.

Eliot pulls him into another kiss, gentle this time, and pulls Quentin up into a hug.

 


End file.
